The Dancer Within
by Evening Starbossa
Summary: Another Meg/Erik story, intertwined within the events of the 2004 movie and beyond.
1. Sleepless

**A/N: This begins the night before the new managers take over. What started out as a single scene has progressed into a full story. Huge thank you to Ace of Gallifrey for all your thoughts and ideas! This first chapter is completely without dialogue. I do not usually write this way. However, this came to me as a single scene that required no words. I apologize if someone out there included something like the dancing scene in one of their own stories. I do not mean to copy anyone. And, of course, I do not own Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters. Anywho...**

** Meg turned over** for the millionth time that night, but it did nothing for the thoughts racing through her mind. Rumors had been passing back and forth around her—rumors that the manager was leaving, and she couldn't help feeling that everything she had ever known and loved and called home was about to change. Forever. A few candles still burned in the dormitory in case one of the girls had to get up in the night, and her eyes easily found her best friend. She was with no doubt having a peaceful sleep, and Meg's thoughts turned to the changes she had seen in her friend over the ten years Christine had lived with them.

No longer was she the always-in-tears little orphan girl. Then, she rarely sang, as her voice was little more than a whispered croak. Then, her dancing was slightly passable, but that was excused as she had not spent her first seven years of life in the opera house. The only time she really opened up her mouth was in the chapel, and Meg only knew this from the few times she had foolishly gone looking for Christine and nearly walked right in on her. Her voice was full of anguish then...anguish over her loss and yet she heard a tiny bit of hope and faith in an unseen angel.

Meg could only share a small portion of Christine's sorrow, for her own father had passed away so soon that Meg had never really known him. There was, of course, the family portrait, depicting her infant self being held on her mother's lap, her father standing tall and important beside his wife. After his death, Madame Giry had returned to her roots at the opera house, raising and training Meg while at the same time becoming mother and teacher to the many other girls who passed through the opera house doors. Meg soon got lost in the shuffle, but she did not mind. Many girls meant many friends, and she was never alone.

Of course, her mother did not entirely neglect her. Very much the opposite, outside of rehearsals and performances. It was off-stage that Mme. Giry hid her under her protective arms. Meg always sensed that her mother was keeping a secret from her...a secret that embodied a whole other side to her...a side that allowed her to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Yet Meg did not fear. After all, to her, this was normal. This was home. Which is why, for the first time, she felt fear deep enough to keep her from her much-needed sleep. Final rehearsal was tomorrow, and she could not afford to lose focus over some silly rumor. And yet, no matter how much she tried, sleep would not come.

Frustrated and tired, she threw back the covers and stood up. She needed air. She needed space. And a dorm full of sleeping dancers was not the proper place. Neglecting her slippers, she silently left the room, making sure to grab an extra candle and light it before completely entering the dark hallway. She easily made her way to the stage, pushing away all thought of how angry her mother would be if she ever found out. The many stagehands were prone to drunkenness, but at this late hour they were no doubt passed out somewhere. Yes, she could afford a half hour at least. It was all she would need, and she would be safe and alone.

Slowly, she found candles set up on stage, meant for props and lighting during the production. She lit only a few, just so she could see where the different pieces of the set were. She also lit a few around the edge of the stage for guidance purposes. It would limit her view of the house, but that was the last of her regrets. She did not wish to be reminded of the audience that was not there. One day, maybe it would be, and she would gladly perform as the Prima ballerina. One day.

**The candles** being lit did not go unnoticed. From his unusual spot on the house floor, a solitary man dressed in black sat with his violin in hand. Who dared to disturb his second sanctuary? This was the time he was free to roam, to no longer hide behind a mask and wig. There were his caverns, of course, but he did not like to stay down there all the time.

For the first half of his time living here, he had been too afraid to emerge from the cellars, even at night when all the lights were out and the main part of the opera house was empty. He relied on his only friend heavily then, almost daily, for nourishment and materials. It was torture, however. Torture to be away from everyone and everything. Torture not to be in control of everything in his life. And when his caves were finally made into a home, he grew bored. So gradually he built his own set of passageways inside the walls of the opera house. Gradually he became accustomed to the routine of the hundreds of people who lived and worked there. And once or twice a week, he had recently begun sitting for hours in the house seats, imagining what it would be like to attend a performance out in the open, away from his precious Box Five and mixed in with the multitudes. Sometimes he played his violin, allowing the music to sooth his lonely, tortured heart. But mostly he sat staring at the stage, listening to the music in his mind and watching imaginary dancers and singers performing his operas.

But tonight...tonight he had not imagined candles being lit, forcing the reality of the stage and set to invade what he had been picturing. But he could not confront whoever it was...he was grateful that his trespasser had lit few enough candles that his face was still hidden. As his eyes adjusted, however, anger turned to confusion, for before him was one of the ballerinas. His friend's daughter...no longer a little girl, and not quite a woman. He had, of course, seen her before, but he had noticed her as one would notice a shadow or a tree in a forest. Yes, she was always near his friend or his chosen pupil Christine. Best friends, as some would put it, almost sisters. Intrigued, he sat back in his seat.

**Having now** memorized the placement of every prop and piece of scenery, Meg closed her eyes. How she wished she had music, but really she did not need it. Taking a deep breath, she began with small steps, half-forgetting her mother's constant warning to stretch before and after each routine. For now, this would have to suffice as warming up, as she lacked time for all precautionary measures.

**Once he realized** what she was doing, he allowed himself to look away from her thoughtful face long enough to move his violin into position. Not wanting to startle her, he began a soft tune.

**She almost stopped** as she heard a few notes being played from somewhere. In her imagination? No...it was in front of her and yet distant. An audience. She really did have an audience. Soon, her careful steps turned into an aimless and carefree dance. She knew how to use every bit of space on that stage, which she did now, floating and twirling, letting her mind break free of all its troubles and worries. She took countless leaps, feeling as though she were flying higher and higher. The violin music was so much better than she could ever have imagined, and it provided the support she needed.

Finally, she collapsed into a position that was like a bow and a kneel all in one, with one foot dramatically further out in front of her and her head on her knee. Catching her breath, she realized that the violinist had only stopped when she had, and even then he had managed to finish his piece beautifully. She also noticed that he was not applauding, but then, neither was she. Then again, this was not an ordinary performance. It was two complete strangers, creating together when they should both be in their own beds. This was not proper. Before she doused the candles, she quickly flashed a smile and a small curtsy at the darkness.

**And then she** was gone, taking the last lit candle with her. He sat frozen for what could have been a lifetime, catching his breath from what had just occurred. Never before had he witnessed anything so beautiful, let alone taken part in it. The tune he had played had been so aimless, he hardly remembered any of the notes. He had simply played to match her movements, so graceful and carefree. Surely, he had seen her dance before, but never with so much freedom. And to have witnessed it...to have been a part of it...

Erik blinked and shook his head. How long had it lasted? No matter. He placed his precious violin back in its case and stood up. Taking one more glance toward the stage, he silently made his way back down into his caverns.

**Meg collapsed** onto her bed, completely exhausted. Still, with her eyes closed, the events of the past hour or so replayed through her mind over and over again. Who had been the man who had played for her? The question was overwhelming, and yet, she almost didn't want the answer. To know would ruin the sheer beauty of it. No, best leave it to be the mystery it was. Smiling, she finally surrendered to a peaceful sleep.


	2. A Twist of Events

**A/N Apologies for any confused POV in the previous chapter. Haven't quite figured out the spacing but I will try something here and see if it works. It should. Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks again to Ace of Gallifrey for all your ideas and feedback!**

Meg stood in front of the mirror, making final adjustments to her costume and rehashing the recent events. It had only been two weeks since her late night dance, and already so much had happened that she barely thought of that night.

The rumors had been proven true, and it seemed that everything had gone downhill after that. Yes, the Phantom had made an appearance, scaring Carlotta out of participating in _Hannibal_, but that was merely another one of his many pranks, and Meg enjoyed the occasional break in the monotony of rehearsals and productions. Christine had been cast in Carlotta's place, and Meg had been thrilled for her friend.

But then, she had vanished. Meg had gone back to look for her after everyone who did not live there had gone home for the night. Christine had not shown up for supper, and now that curfew was approaching, the young dancer grew worried. She'd crept into her mother's chamber and "borrowed" her set of spare keys, remembering that the Vicomte had mentioned her door was locked. Entering the dressing room, she had found it empty. Slowly, she'd crept further in, and that was when she noticed something odd about the mirror. The left edge was separate from the wall, and there was a large opening in its place. A secret doorway! She had stepped through, ready to find Christine playing one of their favorite games from years ago. Instead, she had entered a dark, endless hallway, and anyone else would have turned and fled. But no, she had been determined to find her friend. She cautiously started down, then stopped. Rats! She had let out a gasp, and seconds later, she'd felt a hand on her shoulder. Whirling around, she had come face to face with her mother's disapproving gaze. As she felt pulled back to the dressing room, she had panicked. "But Mama, Christine must be down there! We must find her..." she had protested.

"She is safe." Mme. Giry had replied, though a shadow of doubt had passed over her face. They had returned to find Monsieur Buquet in the dorm room, "entertaining" the girls with stories of their Opera Ghost. Mme. Giry had put an end to that, and sent everyone to bed. That night, Meg had endured another sleepless battle, only this time, tears kept her from escaping to the stage.

Christine had returned in the late morning, seeming to be lost in a trance. She had spoken to no one, not even Meg. More instructions came that morning as well. Instructions from...him. The former manager would have followed them to the letter, but these two newcomers refused.

And so, here she stood, wondering what the Phantom would do once he found out that he was being ignored. Meg had never been faced with such uneasiness before, and she eagerly went toward the stage, eager to get lost in her dance routine.

Erik glared down at the stage. It was one thing to give his Box Five to the insolent young Vicomte. But now, there was Carlotta, singing in Christine's rightful place. He sensed a pair of eyes on him, but he brushed the feeling aside as he moved to the very top of the dome. He would not miss this, and he smirked at the thought of what was about to happen.

As Meg danced, she thought a shadow from above had moved across the stage. Probably Monsieur Buquet, she thought. But then, a voice, not shouting ind yet loud and commanding. "Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be left empty?" Everyone stopped. Could it really have been his voice?

Christine finally spoke up for the first time since her disappearance. "It's him..."

"Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta snapped, then flashed a sheepish grin at the audience. And then, Meg heard him mutter something, but all she could hear was the word "toad."

Oh goody.

He was up to his pranks again, and Meg had to try hard to suppress her grin. Carlotta went offstage to get a dose of her precious throat spray. As she began again, something sounded different, and when she got to the word "husband's", her voice sounded like a gasp, loud and , well, hilarious. She made a second attempt, and it happened again! By now, everyone was laughing, and she ran off the stage again. The curtains closed, and everyone was told to quickly change costumes for the ballet scene. Thankfully, Meg was well-practiced in this, and by the time the curtains opened again, she was in her place. Not that it mattered. Half of the dancers were performing, while everyone else was fighting with the scenery and animals. It was all Meg could do to keep dancing and not trip over anything.

And then, all of a sudden, Monsieur Buquet was right in front of her! She screamed, of course, then forced her gaze to follow his noose up above the lights, and then she saw him. A tall, dark figure with a white mask on the right side of his face. He was staring downward, seemingly right at her! Yes, their eyes met, and she thought he gave her a tiny bow or at least a nod in greeting, before disappearing in a dramatic swish of his cape. By now, everyone was in hysterics, and Meg was found by her mother and dragged to the safety of her room. Mme. Giry gave her a warning look before leaving to try to calm all the other girls.

Madame Giry hustled back to the stage, her mind full of thoughts. Only once before had she seen him kill, and that had been to save his life. This was getting out of hand, but what could she do? She could confront him, but that would only anger him. He was a very determined and ambitious man, and she knew that any attempt to stop him would be futile. The only thing she had ever dared to demand of him was to promise never to harm her only daughter. She had never thought that he would set his sights on the fragile Christine Daae, but by the time she realized it, it was too late to stop him.

But what of Joseph Buquet? Yes, he was a drunken nussiance, but no one deserved to die just for that. He knew a little about who they called the Opera Ghost simply from his position above the stage, and he tended to brag and exaggerate in his stories. She had warned him countless times, but his drink always clouded his judgment. Perhaps that night, he had snooped too much, trying to play the part of a monster-slayer, but he wasn't careful enough. Yes, that must be it, she realized. If Joseph Buquet was trying to catch himself a monster, then she supposed Erik would have to protect himself some way. Still, this was getting dangerous, but it was far too late. All she could do now was to protect her girls and wait. Wait for all of this to be over.

**A/N Sorry if this is getting boring, but there can never be too many POV's, can there? Maybe? Anywho, just a little bit more of rehashing the events of the movie, and then I'll be on my own. Probably in the next chapter or two. So please be patient and bear with me! Again, I own nothing. And again, reviews are always welcome! :D**


	3. Burning Bridges

**A/N Okay, this chapter ends all of the rehashing. The next chapter will have a tiny bit, but since I'm completely changing it all up, that doesn't really count. :P Thanks for sticking with me so far! Again, I own nothing! :)**

Where was he? Meg pouted from her place on the staircase. Three months. Three months and not a single prank, not a single event that was not planned out. Christine was secretly engaged to the Vicomte, but she had said they were childhood sweethearts, so Meg had seen this coming.

Perhaps he was planning something, or maybe taking a break and in hiding after Monsieur Buquet's murder. Either way, she wished he would show up tonight, only so that something good would come of the New Year's masquerade. She danced with a few of her ballet partners, of course, but that seemed too much like her regular work.

Then, as if on cue, he was there, descending the staircase dressed in red, and his mask was now in a symmetrical shape of a skull across his face. Right away, Meg knew this was not one of his pranks. All eyes were on him.

Erik glared around the now still room. Was he out of his mind? Perhaps, and he refused to allow the doubt to appear on his face. Sure, he could have made his demands the usual way, but this was different. This was his opera, and no one would dare ignore his instructions when they saw him face to..well...masked face. No one would dare mess his opera up.

After he delivered his greetings, cold and sarcastic as they were, he threw a leather parcel down in front of the managers, saying that he had written them an opera. How kind, Meg thought, meeting his sarcasm albeit silently. He then listed various instructions, instructions laced with threat which could not simply be torn up and ignored. He then stopped in front of Christine, yanked her engagement ring off her neck, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke and through a trap door in the floor. The Vicomte appeared, sword in hand, quickly enough to follow the Phantom before the door slammed shut. Meg tried to remember noticing when he had left Christine's side, but she was glad for his sake that he had left. No telling what instructions the Phantom would have had for him! Chaos now erupted, and Meg turned toward her mother but found she was, once again, gone. Instead, she moved to Christine's side, trying to comfort her.

Preparations were soon underway for the Phantom's opera, and Meg busied herself with that. At one point, the Vicomte had shown up with a bandage on his shoulder, but Meg had no time to dwell on that. In her spare moments, she found herself wondering how this all would turn out. She knew that the Phantom would not just gift wrap an entire opera and not do something. To think such a thing would be entirely naive. No, this was something more, something much more than a normal opera. A few of the dancers refused to be a part of it, too scared to possibly face him.

Opening night, when Meg was taking her last few moments of alone time, she heard a voice coming through a vent near the back of the dorm room. His voice. It had to be, and it was the first time she had ever heard him sing. All other times she had been in here, there were always girls chattering or she'd been in too deep a sleep to hear anything. Now, she listened carefully.

"No one would listen...

No one but her

Heard as the outcast hears..."

The song was apparently just finishing, but she could tell it was full of sweetness and sadness. Mme. Giry interrupted her thoughts just then. "Meg, come on, you must hurry!" The impatience in her voice would have sounded normal for opening night, but there was a higher pitch to it. Normally, she would have hesitated only for a moment to brush her fingers through her hair or take one more deep breath, but there was no arguing this time. No, there was far too much tension from everyone. Even the police had been called as a precaution, and it seemed the entire force was spread out throughout the entire opera house. Would it come to that? Would this really spell the end of the sorrowful, lonely, murdering prankster of a Phantom? But then who would be the one to break the monotony? Carlotta would most definitely grab back her limelight, Christine would either go back to being a simple chorus girl or marry her Vicomte, and Meg? Probably the same as always. Only more bored. Far more bored.

With that "comforting" thought, Meg followed her mother backstage, ready to take her place.

The opera was going smoothly. Too smoothly. He was somewhere, she just knew it. And then, when Christine walked onstage to begin the duet, 'Don Juan' joined her. Only it wasn't him. Well, it was indeed the character, of course, but he had miraculously lost weight. And shaved. And changed his voice. The voice! This was it! Meg would have jumped up and down with excitement, but the tension was still far too thick. She took her eyes off the stage long enough to see her mother's expression. Horror. Complete and utter horror surrounded the usually-in-charge Madame Giry, as if she was saying "What have you done?" This was not good. Not good at all. Meg turned back to the stage, listening to the ad-libbed song.

It was so intense, and he sang with such strength and emotion that even Meg was about to melt. The two singers met atop the bridge, and as the song softened, Christine turned to face the Phantom. Her hand went up to his face, and Meg nearly choked up her heart as her friend yanked off the 'Don Juan' mask. A collective gasping scream filled the opera house as the mask, wig, and false ear fell to the stage floor. A few policemen started toward the Phantom, but he saw them coming. He pulled two chains, and while one released a trap door, another was attached to the massive chandelier, which now began to sway dangerously above the audience. This. Was. Not. Good. At. All.

**A/N The song 'No One Would Listen' is not mine. It was a deleted song that I strongly believe should have stayed put. I'm pretty sure I replaced it into its rightful place, and the full song can be found on YouTube. This is not the first time that tune will work its way into being stuck in your head in this story. Just a little heads up. Anywho, feedback is appreciated as always! :)**


	4. Confrontation

**A/N: I have to give Ace of Gallifrey credit for this chapter, for it was only with her idea that the chapter one scene grew into a full story. Thank you, again, for all your feedback and ideas! Could not have done this without you! :) **

* * *

**And, once more, I own nothing. **

Meg had to practically grab a hold of her mother's dress to keep up with her without being trampled. Probably ten different search parties were being formed. Escape routes were completely blocked by masses of people trying not to be burned to death, and the other sixty percent were just aimlessly running about, screaming, and otherwise incapable of being any help at all. The Vicomte caught up with Meg and her mother, demanding to be shown the way to the Phantom's home. Madame Giry agreed, and Meg had the sudden urge to not be left out. "I'll come with you!" she spoke up bravely.

"No!" Madame Giry practically yelled. "No." she repeated calmly but sternly. As Meg watched them push on, something inside her clicked. No, mother. Not this time.

Making sure she was unnoticed, she slowly but steadily followed their path, into a secret passageway and to a spiral staircase. Thankfully, there was a random gap in the stone wall, and when she heard her mother returning, she ducked into its shadow. Once she was sure her mother was gone, she crept on ahead, down the stairs, keeping in mind that the Vicomte was ahead and would likely send her back if he got the chance.

At the bottom of the stairs, she was immediately faced with a large body of water, large enough to be a lake. Thankfully, there was a very narrow strip of land surrounding it, and she stepped onto that, sneaking along the edge until she felt the cave wall end. She peeked around the corner, but leaned too far and fell in. Gasping for breath, she waved her arms in the air, reaching for something, anything to hold onto so she could pull herself up. Just when she was about to lose strength, a hand grabbed a hold of her and pulled her onto land. She rubbed the water out of her eyes as she felt warm, dry cloth being wrapped around her. Eek! She just remembered she had been wearing her costumed plain white shirt! Although the cloth was already tightly wrapped around her, she tugged even more at the edges, then looked around. The Phantom was just now standing up beside her, Christine gawking in the background. For the first time, Meg got a good look at the Phantom's real face. Not so bad, once you'd gotten used to it. Monsieur Buquet had been wrong, dead wrong, if you can excuse the horrible pun. Meg now realized the Phantom had wrapped his own cape around her, but he was not looking at her with concern. More amused annoyance. "You realize you could have just stood up?" He smirked.

"Oh yes, thank you so much for telling me that NOW!. Perhaps I should fall in again so you can tell me when it's HELPFUL?" Meg sputtered, although her sharp sarcastic tone was lost in her chattering teeth and shivers, making the situation all the more pathetic.

"Meg, what are you doing here?" Christine spoke up.

"That's not important. Ignore her. This is what matters! This is your fate!" the Phantom pointed a finger at the right side of his face, and Meg noticed that she had changed clothes. Now she wore a white gown and a veil. What in the...

"Christine!" a familiar voice called out, and the Phantom threw up his arms.

"Now what?" he roared, rolling his eyes. The Vicomte appeared then, on the opposite side of a large iron gate.

"Let me see her!" the new visitor demanded.

"Be my guest, sir..." Grinning, the Phantom reached in front of Meg and pulled a lever. Immediately, the gate opened, and the Vicomte rushed in as fast as one could when knee deep in water. Knee deep? Meg could have kicked herself. Before she could, however, the Phantom rushed forward and quickly tied a rope around the Vicomte, securing him to the gate. If the Vicomte noticed Meg, he certainly had no time to acknowledge her disobedience. As the scene unfolded before her, Meg began to piece everything together. Christine's angel. The Opera Ghost. The song. It all made sense, especially where the Vicomte was concerned. Especially in the Phantom's next words, aimed at Christine. "Do you share your life with me, or do you send your love to his death? This is your choice! THIS IS THE POINT OF NO RETURN!" Oh dear. _Well, I just can't stand by and watch this happen now, can I?_ Meg thought as she stood up, albeit on wobbly shivering legs.

"Um, excuse me, uh, Phantom? Are you really sure you want to be doing that?"

"Yes. Now sit down before you fall in and ruin my cape." He looked through narrow eyes at her.

"Are you sure? Because I would think that an intelligent man such as yourself would realize that either way Christine chooses, it would seem as you had won, when really, all you would earn is her resentment. Are you really prepared for that?"

"Silence, child! You may have earned my approval of your dancing, but I'll not take orders from the likes of you!"

"It was you?" Meg lost her train of thought, recalling that beautiful night so many months ago. Then, she was forced to snap back into the present, for Christine was now approaching the Phantom. "Christine, no! Don't you get it?" Meg threw aside the cape and stepped back into the lake. Shoving aside her friend in the kindest possible way, Meg walked toward the Phantom, stopping only when she was inches away from him. "Phantom, hear me out. You may think that Christine is the only one for you, but she belongs to Raul, whether or not you stole her ring. You must let them be, or you will never be free." And then, just to show him his thinking had been wrong, she reached up and touched his disfigured face. Getting up onto her toes, she touched her lips to his.

Erik allowed the rope to slip from his fingers. This was not part of the plan. _Think, Erik, think!_

Yet how could he, with the little dancer's lips covering his? He stood motionless, until at last she pulled away. _No, this cannot be happening! Christine..._ Tears came to his eyes, tears of joy and confusion all at once. Someone had actually willingly kissed him, and it wasn't the one he had put his heart, soul, and mind into to win over. No. It was the dancer. Antoinette's daughter. His friend was going to kill him.

**A/N: Okay, so this wasn't as humorous as it could have been, but I didn't want Meg to turn into a complete spoiled brat. Keep in mind, though, that this is not over, and a sister of mine gave me the inspiration to try and incorporate a little bit of Elizabeth Swann from 'Pirates of the Caribbean' into Meg's character. Particularly, the scene in Pirates 2 where there's a three-way sword fight while Elizabeth is forced to just look on. This could get interesting. **

**(And Ace, I promise not to rush the feelings this time! :) The kiss was merely meant as a sort of distraction. Thanks again for your awesome suggestions!)**


	5. The NonPlan

**A/N: Okay, so the last chapter was lacking as far as action and drama. I apologize and promise to edit it when this story is complete. I also looked back and noticed my POV breaks weren't showing up. Sorry about that. Anywho, I own nothing, blah blah blah, here's Chapter 5.**

While the Phantom was lost in his confusion, Meg motioned for Christine to free her fiance and leave. Now. Christine hastened to do so, stopping only to place the engagement ring on one of the Phantom's tables, and then followed the Vicomte into the only boat available. She threw Meg a questioning look, as if to ask her to join them. But no, Meg could not leave the Phantom like this. Not with the angry mob closing in on them. She shook her head, and the couple disappeared, singing to each other.

"Come, you must hide!" Meg turned to the Phantom, still frozen and in tears. "Yoo hoo, Phantom! Angry mob! Coming to arrest you! Do you have another hiding place?" She waved her hand in front of his eyes, and he slowly walked toward another cavern. All Meg could do was follow behind him, and in the dim light, she watched him disappear behind a thick curtain set against the wall, and he seemed to push something to make a doorway appear. Quickly, she joined him before the door could block her out.

Now completely surrounded in blackness, she was the one frozen while the Phantom moved further in, and she heard him collapse on some sort of squeaky furniture. Well this was nice. She slowly crept along the wall, almost immediately tripping over something large and causing a loud clatter. "For someone who's as graceful a dancer as yourself, you're quite clumsy." Meg could just picture him smirking underneath all his tears.

"It would help if I could see."

"You didn't have to follow me, but now it's too late. As you said, they're probably out there now, and so you're trapped. In the dark, with me. I hope that kiss was worth it."

_Well, thank you, Mr. Cheerful, _she felt like saying. But that would have been far too harsh a blow. And so she silently sat on the floor, her leg propped up on something, but she didn't dare to move. Sleep. Sleep would be the best thing.

When she woke up, she still wasn't sure as to whether or not her eyes were open. Her only clue was the fact that her leg HURT! Slowly, she got to her feet, knowing that if she didn't stretch soon, she would be stiff as a board. She proceeded to put all her mother's exercise training into practice, thankful that she had finally gained her balance back. Now that she felt so much better, she suddenly had the sinking feeling that he had been watching her. "Phantom? Are you there?"

"The Phantom is no more. He left when Christine removed his mask." His voice was so bitter that it was almost a growl. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Erik." Sarcasm now, followed by a sniffle.

"Fine. Erik, where exactly are you?" Meg attempted to slowly follow his voice without tripping over anything.

"Don't come any closer. Just leave me alone!"

"Yes, that would be fine and all, but as you said, I'm trapped, and while you may be used to all this darkness, I certainly am not." Uh oh. He could see her. And the cape was in the main cavern. Her mother would kill her. Sheepishly, she backed away.

"Will you just shut it? Whatever possessed you to sneak down here and ruin everything anyway?"

"I did not ruin anything! I stopped you from making a horrible mistake!" Meg retorted.

"Let me make one thing clear, little snoop. I love Christine. Don't you dare call that a mistake! I love her!" Erik hissed, and Meg was glad she had backed away, because she suspected he would have grabbed her shoulders then and shaken her.

"I didn't mean that. What I did mean was that just because you love someone doesn't mean that you can force them to return the feeling. She loved him before she even came here."

"And I suppose that's supposed to make me feel any better? Look, if all you're going to do is lecture me, then you might as well leave. I will gladly lead the way."

"Wouldn't you get caught?"

"Oh what does it matter anymore? Without Christine, I'm nothing!"

"That's not true and you know it. You're a fine musician. You made this dark cave into a home. You're intelligent and the pranks you pull have always put a smile on my face..."

"That does it. Come with me." Without waiting for any argument, Erik pulled her by the arm across the room. He stopped long enough to open a door, and then he proceeded to half-drag her up a set of stairs. "Keep going up the stairs. The hallway leads right to the props room, just pull the lever. And don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone, or I will find you." With that, she heard him go back down and close the door. Great. Just great.

Left with no other options, Meg followed his instructions. She eventually found the lever, and when she pulled it, a door slid open and she was immediately surrounded by smoke. Heavy, thick smoke. She stumbled back, coughing and blinded, and the last thing she remembered before falling backwards down the stairs was the sound of the secret door slamming shut.

Erik had no sooner sat back down on the cot when he heard a bang on the wooden door. He could have ignored her. He should have ignored her. After all, his instructions had been quite clear, with no room for disobedience. But he also knew that he would not be able to completely submerge himself in his grief with her banging on his door. Rolling his eyes, he stood back up and opened the door. Immediately, he felt her roll down onto his feet, barely conscious. A small puff of smoke entered the room after her, and he groaned. The fire. He had forgotten all about the fire. Antoinette would doubly kill him, now that her daughter was just lying there, her lungs obviously filled with smoke and a small bump on her head from the fall. Yes, Madame Giry would gladly kill him, and then kill him again with no hesitation.

Erik lifted the small dancer and set her down on the cot. She let out a moan, and Erik was thankful that she was still alive. He went over to the small trunk she had tripped over the night before, and found a small piece of cloth he had packed for such an emergency. He wrapped the cloth around Meg's head. Now what? Water. She needed water. Erik hesitated. The only place he was sure to find some was with no doubt crawling with monster-hunters, and he wasn't sure he was ready to risk his life to save this snooping little girl. If only she hadn't come down here. If only she had left well enough alone, Christine would be with him. Yes, he still would have had to run and hide, but with Christine by his side, he wouldn't have minded. But now she was gone. Erik slid to the floor, letting the tears take over.


	6. Means of Escape

**A/N: Again, my apologies for the lack of clarity with the changed POVs. I'm using Open Office, and while I place a dashed line where the POV changes, that doesn't seem to make it to the final submission on the website. So if it really and truly bothers you, please let me know and I'll try a different program(WordPad). Once again, I own nothing.**

* * *

Cold water splashed onto Meg's face, pulling her out of unconsciousness. She began to sit up, then fell back down, moaning in pain. She slowly opened her eyes, and the first thing she noticed was two candles set up on both sides of the room. Erik was sitting on the floor, his back up against the simple bed she was on. "Erik?" As she spoke, she realized how dry and scratchy her throat had become.

"Good morning. You'll be pleased to know that I wasn't caught." He didn't look at her; instead, she saw him fingering a diamond ring. A wooden bowl was beside him on the floor, the only evidence of him waking her up.

"They're gone?"

"No. They simply waved to me as I grabbed a few of my things and saved your life." Erik scoffed, and Meg winced. She had walked right into that sarcastic remark.

"Thank you." was all she could think to say, and he mumbled a reply. An awkward silence then fell over them, and Meg felt herself growing dizzy. She needed a drink, and Erik looked as though he'd forgotten about her. Conjuring every ounce of strength she had, she got up from the bed.

"For goodness sake, woman, sit down!" Erik gave her a shove.

"I thought you...I needed..." Meg stammered.

"What? You needed what?"

"Water. A drink. My throat."

Erik rolled his eyes. Of course she did! What was he thinking? He wasn't about to let Meg see his defeat, however, and he silently grabbed the bowl and stomped out of the room. Upon his return, he shoved the bowl into her hands and sat back down. "You know, you really are a nuisance, girl. If all my exits into the opera house weren't blocked, I'd send you right back to your mother."

"Blocked?"

"By the fire, or don't you remember? They've all but caved in."

"Of course I remember. I'm just dizzy is all."

"Then you should go back to sleep. Ignore me." Erik was growing increasingly impatient as she continued to point out all the things he should know. But when one has spent practically his whole life in solitude, there were certain things he shouldn't be expected to think of. Closing his eyes, he thought of Antoinette. She would want him to think before he spoke. In all the chaos that surrounded the final act of his opera, he hadn't missed a quick glimpse at her face, and had he not been holding the love of his life at the moment, he would have stopped to think. But no, there hadn't been time. Now, as he looked back, he realized how far he had gone. Never in all the time he knew her had he seen that look of horror. Never, not even when she had seen his face. Not only had he lost Christine, he had also severed a good portion of the cords between himself and his only friend. He had severed her trust.

When Meg finished the small drink, she lay back on the bed. As she closed her eyes again, she allowed the sound of his weeping lull her to sleep.

As Meg recovered further, Erik made daily trips out of the secret room, bringing back more water, a few possessions, and all the rest of his stored food. The cool atmosphere of the cavern had kept the bread and vegetables fresh and the meat and cheese cold, and Meg gradually regained her strength. It was not a complete upward battle, however, as most of the time was spent either arguing or listening to him weep. Sometimes, he made extra trips storming out of the room, muttering under his breath, and Meg guessed it was to cool himself off after a particularly harsh blow of her words. _Well he can't blame me for the truth._ Meg thought to herself stubbornly.

Whenever he returned from such trips, he refused to look at her and crossed the room, sat down with his back to her and played his violin. The first time she watched him pick it up, she had looked on with curiosity. As soon as he began playing, though, she felt herself floating back in time to that one magical night. This was the last piece of evidence she needed. He played with such a signature amount of emotion and beauty that it could only have been him. And now, watching him perform, she realized that this was his true escape. Although his back was to her, she saw him sway at certain points, and she imagined his eyes closed, allowing his entire soul to go into the aimless tunes while the songs entered him. If she wasn't still mad at him, she would have gotten up and started dancing to accompany him. But the fact remained that she was still mad at him, and she wasn't about to let him think he'd won. So when he finished playing and finally was able to face her, he found her sitting with her own back to him, arms folded across her chest. _Stubborn little imp._ He thought with a smirk.

Several weeks passed. While Meg soon fully recovered, the food soon ran out, causing sparks to really fly between them.(and I don't mean in the lovey dovey romantic way.) As soon as Erik saw how well she had gotten, he all but threw her out of his bed, and the daggers flying from his eyes each time he got up let Meg know what to expect if she ever dared to take it back. And so, Meg mostly stayed on the floor, using his absences as her chance to dance. These times alone were short, and water can only fill so much of one's stomach. Hunger soon won over her urge to express herself, and by the time Erik returned, he could not have guessed that she had ever moved from her spot.

On one particular day, however, he had been considerably short in his absence, and he was able to catch Meg mid-routine. She was just landing from a leap and began twirling on one set of toes, her other leg straight out behind her. She stopped as soon as she saw him and began to blush. "You really are a good dancer, Meg." For once, there wasn't a trace of sarcasm in his voice, which made her blush all the more redder.

"Thank you, Erik. I'm afraid I can't dance very well on an empty stomach, however."

"Yes, well, I can't very well help that, can I? Believe me, I've tried every single door, but they're all blocked. I honestly didn't mean to burn the whole place down, but it looks as though that's exactly what happened."

"I'm not blaming you. I..." Meg felt tears of tiredness fill her eyes, and she sat down.

"I know." Erik responded.

The next morning, Meg awoke to find Erik flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and fingering the engagement ring. Slowly, she crept over to the bed, gingerly sitting down on the thin mattress beside him. He didn't even blink as he spoke. "Meg..I need to know. Why did you come down here? Why did you stay? And...why...why did you kiss me?" The question came as a complete surprise to her, but his voice sounded painfully weak.

"I...I came because I guess I was curious. All my life, I have seen evidence of you, in the pranks you played, in the demands you made, and in the changes I saw in Christine." At the sound of her name, Erik squeezed the ring. "I guess I didn't want to miss out on any chance of actually meeting you. And I stayed because, well, I couldn't have just walked away from you, frozen as you were. Mama raised me better than that." She stopped, and Erik nodded.

"And...the kiss...? Surely it wasn't because you loved me. That much is clear after all our arguments."

"No...you're right..." Meg hated to admit it, with him in such a vulnerable state, but she couldn't deny the truth after defending it all those weeks. "I meant to protect her."

"So...you shoved her away...you got in between me and my love, and you kissed me without meaning anything by it?" Erik's conclusion was voiced with a bitter coolness, and yet it was the truth. He was looking at her now, eyes narrow, and he sat up.

"No, I didn't mean it. But Christine wouldn't have meant it either!" Right away, she knew she had said too much, but hunger clouded her judgment. Seeming to regain his strength, he stood up and slapped her face.

"How dare you! You don't know that for sure! And now we'll never know!" His face was just inches from her's, and while she recovered from the blow, he turned and took a few steps away. Meg stood up now and hurried to face him again. No way was he winning this time. She may have gone too far, but now that the cat was out of the bag, she would have her say.

"Believe me, I know. I'm her best friend, remember? You may have had her under your spell, but kisses don't lie. She would have done it only to protect Raul, and you know that! What were YOU thinking, making her choose like that?" He responded with a few more blows to her face, each one harder than the one before.

"SILENCE! SILENCE, do you hear me? You don't know ANYTHING about love! You don't know ANYTHING about what went on between her and I! You're just a common backstage rat who-"

"Shh..." Meg interrupted.

"No, I WILL NOT be shushed by a tiny insolent little-"

"No, Erik...listen..." Her urgency was genuine, and so the red-faced Erik was forced to take silent, deep breaths while be reluctantly obeyed her. Then he heard it. Muffled voices and a constant digging sound coming from the prop room hallway.

"Come with me." Erik grabbed a hold of Meg's arm with one hand while picking up his violin case with the other. Pushing the magic spot on the wall, he dragged her back into the larger cavern, through the water and onto land.

"Are you mad? Perhaps it's a rescue party..."

"Oh come on, Meg, are you really that naive? Oh, they would have rescued you alright, but then where would that leave me?" He let go of her long enough to pick up a candlestick and pull aside a curtain, revealing a mirror. Without hesitation, he broke the glass into millions of pieces, revealing a doorway. He shoved her in ahead of him, and, closing the curtain, she was left in complete darkness once again. All she could do now was walk where he prodded her, until at last they reached a simple ladder. At the top, he opened another door, and they went up yet more stairs until finally there was a faint light ahead. One final door was opened, and Meg stumbled forward into an alleyway.

"Where exactly are we going?" She managed.

"Safety, that's where." Erik had had Antoinette make the arrangements for such a time as this. She had told him of a relative of hers that owned a riverboat, and he made a living by carrying goods and passengers up and down the river. All Erik had to do, she had told him, was mention her name, and he would gladly take him to Antoinette's husband's riverside mansion in the country.

"I...can't..." Meg stumbled to the ground, and Erik groaned. She wasn't any hungrier than he was, and so he couldn't possibly carry her. Besides, he needed her for directions.

"Meg, stay with me here. Don't do this. Not now!" he pulled her to her feet and let her lean against him. He hoped that the river wasn't too far away, as they were sure to cause a scene if they encountered a large crowd. "Please. Which way to the river? Your mother's cousin's boat."

Meg looked around as they made it to the end of the alley. "I'm pretty sure it's two blocks this way..." She managed, and by the time Erik had found Cousin Philippe and climbed aboard, Meg was completely passed out.

**A/N: More to come soon! Bear with me, though, as I have only a vague idea of where this is all going! Feedback is welcome!**


	7. Recovering

**A/N: Hmm...no reviews for Chapter 6 yet? Oh well. Here's Chapter 7...probably only one or two more chapters to go, and then I'll be starting on a brand new story! Once again, I own nothing.**

The Giry mansion was as massive and beautiful as one could expect a mansion to be, but Erik had no chance to really take in the sight. His pains of hunger were getting worse by the second, but he forced himself to focus long enough to help Philippe carry Meg up the stairs and into a guest chamber. Only when he was sure she would be comfortable did he collapse onto the sofa in the corner.

Meg stirred when she felt a cold, wet cloth on her face. Gentle arms helped her sit up, and she slowly opened her eyes. "Here. Drink this." She took the steaming mug that was presented to her, and as the warm broth trickled down her throat, she looked around. Erik was sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Where are we?"

"Your father's mansion. Your mother's cousin's wife is in the kitchen preparing supper."

"My father's mansion? I've never been here before..."

"No, you wouldn't have, would you? I suppose your mother could not afford to take a break from the opera house, could she?"

"And you said Jeanette was cooking supper? Does that mean all the staff are gone?"

"Yes. With no one coming here, it would have been a waste of their time and your mother's money. Besides, the less people who see me, the better." Silence fell over them, and Meg finished her broth. "You should get more sleep. Jeanette will bring you some food later on."

"Erik?" Meg reached for his hand as he stood. Erik was surprised by her gentle touch. "Will you be alright?" The question was so sudden and gentle that he was speechless. Was this the same fiery girl that he had fought with only that morning? Surely it was her weakness that had made her so caring towards him.

"I'll be fine. I've been hungry before."

"And...your heart?" Now he knew she was weak.

"Get some sleep." He took the mug from her and waited until she had closed her eyes before he left the room, tears falling down his face.

"So, you're little Marguerite..." Jeanette commented upon entering the room. "Only you're not so little now." The plump middle-aged woman set her tray on the bedside table and touched Meg's shoulder.

"Hello...Jeanette. I'm glad I'm finally meeting you." Meg smiled weakly.

"Here, now. You must eat this. Philippe will be leaving in the morning to fetch my daughter and son-in-law. They will be bringing some clothes for you and will stay as long as you need them."

"Thank you..." was all Meg managed to say.

"Poor little girl..." Jeanette remarked quietly, leaving Meg to her supper of beef stew.

Three days later, Meg was well enough so that when Erik came to check on her, he found her standing on the balcony, staring across the river. "Meg...you're up!" he could not hide his relief. "I...brought you a book. I wasn't sure..." Meg slowly turned to face him.

"Erik...why did you stay with me? I would have thought for sure you would have asked Philippe to take you out of the country. You would have been much safer there, and I could have returned to Mama once I recovered."

"Your mother assured me I'd be perfectly safe here. Besides. I couldn't just leave you. I owe you and your mother a great deal of favors."

"I always knew Mama had some sort of connection to you, but I never knew what it was." Erik took a deep breath and sat down on the balcony railing before responding.

"When I was just a toddler, my mother sold me to the gypsies. People from all over came to see me. They called me...they called me 'the Devil's child'. I was beaten and humiliated in front of the crowds. Then one day when I was about ten years old, your mother was in the crowd. That day, I...I just couldn't take it anymore, so I killed the man who beat me. Your mother saw me do it, and she helped me escape. She hid me in the opera house and was my link to the outside world."

"That explains so much." Meg nodded. "But you owe me nothing, Erik."

"Oh, but I do." Erik looked up at her, and there was pain and shame in his eyes. "Meg...I...I was horrible to you...all you wanted was to help me...just like your mother did...and I..." he began sobbing. "One promise. One thing she ever asked, and I broke it. I broke her trust and I...I hurt you, Meg! I hurt you! Your mother must already hate me, and now I did this!"

"Erik, what are you talking about?" Meg knelt on the balcony in front of him. Silently, he walked into the room and came back with a hand-held mirror. He leaned over the balcony, and Meg slowly turned to face her reflection. The whole left side of her face was red, black, and blue where he had slapped her the day they had escaped. "Oh, Erik..." she set the mirror down and stood up, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Erik, this will heal. I was the one who was horrid to you! I don't blame you for knocking some sense into me. I should have kept my mouth shut, just as Mama always taught me. This is my fault, not yours." Erik's body shook with his sobs, and Meg wrapped her arms around him.

"How can you be so kind?" he finally turned to face her.

"Because no one deserves to be alone. No one." Meg hugged him again, then reached up to touch his face. Ever so slowly, Erik bent his head closer to her's, and their lips met. The kiss was soft and passionate, and he knew right away that this time, she meant it. He pulled his mouth away and touched his forehead to her shoulder.

"Oh, Meg...dear, sweet Meg...how do I face your mother again?"

"I'll write to her. When Philippe comes back up this way, I'll send the message with him. We'll face her together." Meg smiled reassuringly up at him and lightly brushed a tear from his cheek.

"Come. Marie will be serving the noon meal now, and then I'll give you a proper tour of your father's mansion."

"That sounds wonderful." Meg allowed herself to be escorted out of the room.

"Erik, I couldn't help noticing you have a violin with you." Pierre commented as they ate.

"Yes...playing it brings a great deal of comfort to me."

"Pierre is the same way. We own a shop in the next town. He builds small musical instruments, such as violins and flutes and such. I run the front of the store, and all day customers can hear him testing each one out." Marie spoke up.

"Well I wouldn't dare sell an instrument if I don't know whether or not it works, my dear. My customers have come to trust my work because of this."

"Perhaps this evening we could gather in the ballroom. I think Meg is beginning to miss her dancing." Erik suggested, and they all nodded in agreement.

Erik had another trick up his sleeve, however, for when they had all settled in, he handed his violin over to Pierre and reached his hand out to Meg. "Care to dance, Marguerite?"

"I...yes, but I thought..."

"I have never had the pleasure of dancing with anyone. There was that final opera, of course, but I'm not counting that."

"Then I'd be delighted, Monsieur." Meg curtsied, and they moved to the center of the room. As the song progressed, however, she could feel him getting stiff and uncomfortable. "Erik...you must loosen up..." she whispered.

"I said I've never danced with anyone before. Perhaps you could teach me?"

"All right then. Don't look at your feet, for one. And for goodness sake, relax. Let the music move you." After yet another failed attempt and another stepped-on foot, and as soon as the song ended, Erik turned and sat down on a sofa, head in hands. "Pierre, Marie, why don't you two dance now, and Erik can play for you?" Meg suggested, and brought the violin over to Erik.

"I'm sorry, Meg. I guess I'm not much of a dancer after all." Erik took his violin and began playing.

"Yes you are. Give yourself a chance." But he wasn't listening. Meg watched him close his eyes, swaying to the music, and then she got an idea. "Don't stop playing. Trust me." She whispered. Slowly, she pulled him to his feet, careful not to interrupt his playing. She then guided him to the center of the room. Gradually, his swaying became more of a dance, and he began twirling around. "That's it, Erik, you've got it!" Meg clapped. "Now, Pierre, if you will take the violin and keep playing..." Pierre immediately did so, and Meg placed her hands into Erik's. "You see, Erik, dancing is much like your music, especially when you play an aimless tune. You don't think about memorizing steps and routines. You just let the music fill you." The song changed seamlessly, and as they kept dancing, Erik became confident enough that he was able to lead.

Over the course of three hours, the two couples took turns dancing and playing, and once or twice they all took a break while Meg danced one of her ballet routines. Finally, exhaustion took over, and Erik walked the yawning dancer to her bedchamber. "Thank you, Erik. You were right about me missing my dancing. Any longer and I would have gone rusty."

"I very much doubt that, Meg. You're doubting all your mother's training."

"Oh...the letter...I forgot..."

"Don't worry about it now, Meg. Get some sleep." Erik bent down and kissed her lightly on the forehead, then stood outside her door until she had closed it behind her.

**A/N** **Feedback welcome as always! Thanks!**


	8. Departing

**A/N: Yay, reviews! Thank you! I always appreciate feedback! Anyway, Madame Giry is back in this chapter, and she is not happy. Look out! Once again, I own nothing.**

Exactly one week passed after Meg sent her message along with Philippe. The day that her response arrived, she and Erik were picnicking along the riverbank, enjoying the first nice spring day of the year. Just then, Philippe's boat pulled in at the dock, and Meg noticed he had a passenger. And it was not Jeanette. "Mama!" Meg ran down to greet Mme. Giry, but before she could wrap her arms around her mother, the look in her eyes stopped her mid-step.

"So, Marguerite, this is where you've been? Vacationing while in the meantime I was losing all hope of ever seeing you again?" By now, Erik had joined them, but hearing Mme. Giry's tone made him want to run and hide. "And you, Erik, you are no better off! I cannot believe either one of you! This is the most irresponsible thing I have ever seen!"

"Mama, this is not what you think! If you would just listen...why don't we all go inside? I'm sure you're both hungry after the long boat trip..." Meg spoke up, and Mme. Giry reluctantly agreed. She and her cousin ate in silence, and then Philippe joined Pierre and Marie in the kitchen while the others gathered in the sitting room.

"Now, Marguerite, perhaps you can ease your mother's mind, hmm? Last I saw you, I was specifically telling you not to follow the Vicomte and I, and then Christine tells me that she saw you down there anyway! Kissing Erik, no less! She is very worried about you!"

"Mama, I had to do something! If I didn't step in, Christine would have...and she would've only ended up hurting herself, Raul, and Erik!"

"But you disobeyed me, Meg! Do I not know what is best for you? What is safe?"

"Yes, Mama." Meg hung her head.

"And you, Erik! What was the one thing I asked of you? To stay away from my daughter! I don't see why you couldn't just send her back to me!"

"Antoinette, I tried. Believe me I tried. But the fire had us trapped down there."

"And whose fault is that, huh? All my life I've been making excuses for you. Well I'm through doing that. It's time you own up to your mistakes!" Mme. Giry was now towering over Erik, and he saw in her eyes that she was not playing around.

"I know, Antoinette. I deserve every word you have to say to me."

"Come, Meg. Philippe will take us back to the city."

"No, Mama...what about Erik?"

"What about him? He must think about what he's done and learn to make it on his own. I'll not help him any longer!" Mme. Giry began pulling her daughter towards the door, but Meg dragged her feet.

"Mama, no! I love him!" Mme. Giry whipped her head around and glared daggers at the dancer.

"So...you couldn't have Christine and so you've set your sights on Meg? Well, I won't allow it! Erik, I forbid it!" Mme. Giry's voice was so high-pitched now that she practically screeched those last words. Erik put his head in his hands, unable to hide his tears from his life-long friend.

"Erik, say something! Please!" Meg pleaded.

"My dear, nothing he can say will change my mind. His words do not change the fact that I know he still loves Christine, and he is only using you as a replacement!"

"Erik, is that true?" Meg did not believe what her mother was saying, but she just wanted proof.

"Meg, I..." Erik's voice faced as he looked into Meg's eyes. She could see the tears, the pain, the confusion.

"There, you see? He cannot deny it! Come, we are leaving. Erik, as far as you staying here is concerned, consider this house yours. We will not be coming here ever again, we are far too busy. So when we get back to the city, I will sign all the necessary documents. That is all I can do for you now. Good bye."

As Mme. Giry dragged Meg out of the room to find Philippe, Erik was left to weep into his hands. Was she right? Did he really see Meg as nothing more than a replacement? His thoughts then reluctantly turned to Christine, and he wept even harder, knowing that whatever he felt for Meg, Madame Giry was right about one thing. He still loved Christine.

As Philippe was feeling a little fatigued by the journey, he persuaded Mme. Giry to stay the night. After everyone had retired to their rooms, Erik sneaked down to the sitting room, unwilling to sleep for fear of the dreams he was prone to have. Only when he had been weakened by the hunger had he welcomed sleep, but all other nights, he had spent pacing or just staring at the dark ceiling, knowing that if he closed his eyes, he would see Christine there. He hadn't completely stopped weeping ever since Antoinette's lecture hours before, knowing he would soon be parted with the one who cared enough to touch her lips to his, the one who had risked her mother's disapproval all for a chance to meet the infamous Opera Ghost.

The one who was now staring out the sitting room window. "Meg? You couldn't sleep either?"

"Of course not. There is too much on my mind. Mama tried to make me see things her way...try to see that she's doing this out of love. She thinks that you're turning me into the next Christine."

"What?"

"She's afraid that you're going to do the same thing to me as you did to Christine. She does not think I really love you."

"Oh Meg...I wish there was something I could say to change her mind. But you and your mother share your stubbornness."

"What doesn't help is she has so much on her mind. She told me that the managers have washed their hands of the opera house. Mama is the new manager, but it's useless. Raul refuses to pay for the reconstruction. He says it is not his family's responsibility, so why should they pay?" Erik pulled her into a hug, seeing the tears flooding down her face. "Erik, the world's falling apart all around me, and there's not one thing I can do to stop it."

"I feel the same way, dearest Meg. I...I feel like I can't breathe, like I can't think." Erik held the little dancer tightly in his arms, matching her tears.

"Tell me the truth, Erik. Do you still love Christine?"

"Yes. Christine will always have a special place in my heart. But I do love you, Meg. You've got to believe me about that. Please...don't leave me tomorrow. I beg you!"

"You want me to choose between you and my mother?" Meg pulled away.

"I don't want you to, Meg, but that's clearly the only option here."

"Please, Erik...don't make me choose! This is exactly what you did to Christine, and look where that got you!"

"Meg...please...I'm sorry..." Panic flooded his eyes, now, but it was too late. Meg ran from the room, sobbing uncontrollably.

And so, the next morning, after a quick breakfast, Erik stood on the dock, watching Philippe's boat disappear around the river bend. Meg was gone and his one friendship in life was shattered. Now, he was left with two options. He could spend the rest of his life miserable, or he could find some way to make things right. And only one would reunite him and his love. Slowly he turned back toward the Giry house, his mind working out a plan.

**A/N: Ooo the suspense is just killing you isn't it? Believe me it was killing me to write it into this chapter, but I had to have some other conflict. Stay tuned and watch Erik's plan unfold in the next chapter of 'The Dancer Within'! Reviews welcome!**


	9. A New Man

**A/N: Okay I couldn't take the suspense anymore! Time to find out what Erik came up with! Here's a hint...Christine is back (don't even think about throwing that shoe at the screen! :P ) And as always, I own nothing!**

"Christine,

Please allow me to make my deepest apologies for my actions. I could blame them all on my solitude and not being in touch with the world outside my caverns, but that would only be an excuse. I wish to meet with you and the Vicomte in peace, just so I may say a formal good bye. If I don't see you at Mme. Giry's cousin's dock in the city in three day's time, at noon, I will know you do not wish to see me, which I will understand. I promise to leave you and your true love in peace from this day forward.

Sincerely,

E."

Christine held the note in shaking hands. Memories of torment and confusion flooded her mind as she read it over again. She knew immediately who it was from, no matter what letter he used to hide behind. All her time at the opera house, she knew him by "Opera Ghost", "O.G.", "The Phantom", and, to her only, "Your Teacher". This was a trap. It had to be. No, she wouldn't be pulled in again.

"What is that, Little Lottie?" Raul sounded strangely cheerful as he entered the room.

"It's...from him..." she handed the letter to her fiance, deep in thought. Raul read the note and then crumpled it up.

"So, he wants another meeting, does he? Well, my sword has been eagerly awaiting revenge. We'll go, all right, and you can bet he'll say his good byes!"

"Oh, Raul, must I go?" Christine pleaded.

"Don't worry, love. He'll not harm you. I promise." Raul placed his arm around his fiance.

Erik stood on the dock, and despite the warm weather, he wore a hood upon his head, concealing his disfigurement. One of his regular masks would have been sufficient, but he did not have any with him for one, and he knew it would make him stand out far to easily. After all, he was a wanted man.

Just then, a familiar couple rode up on a white horse. He automatically stiffened, then scolded himself. "Good afternoon, Christine, Vicomte." He greeted them with an even voice. He did not trust his emotions at the moment.

"Never mind the formalities. Say your piece and then leave, or I'll be forced to use this!" Raul drew his sword and placed himself between Erik and Christine.

"There will be no need of that. As I wrote to you, I deeply regret everything I put the both of you through. Now that I have felt true love, I know that I should never have meddled in your life. I wish you both all the happiness in the world, and I plan on making things right, starting with the reconstruction."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You'll find out soon enough. That's between me and the new manager for now. Good bye, Christine." Erik took one last look in his former pupil's eyes before taking a small bow. He nodded to the Vicomte, then turned and got back into Philippe's boat. As they floated back toward his new home, and as he took one more look at the couple, Erik felt his heart pounding. However, he couldn't help smiling a little at the young Vicomte's disappointed and confused face. Two months ago, he would have gladly met his challenge. But today he was a new man, and he could honestly tell Antoinette and Meg that Christine was officially in his past. He could only hope that Madame Giry would be open to listening.

Upon his return to the house, he went to his room and reached for his violin case. He had carved the case himself, making sure to include several secret compartments in which he carried a portion of his salary money. The rest Antoinette had deposited in a bank for him. He only hoped that he had enough with him now as he began his next letter.

"Meg! Good news!" Madame Giry rushed into the dorm room. It was mostly the front of the opera house that had suffered the most damage. The dorm rooms and the caverns were all still intact. Meg looked up from the spot on the floor she had been staring at for hours now.

"What is it?" Her voice was sad and distant, but that did not put a dent in her mother's sudden enthusiasm.

"We have a new patron! He has sent us one hundred thousand francs toward the reconstruction, and he has said that if we need more, we need only ask!"

"Who is it, Mama? Who?"

"It was me, Meg." A familiar voice sounded from the doorway, and Mme. Giry whirled around in shock.

"Erik!" Meg squealed and rushed over to him.

"What are you doing here, Erik? Bribery will not work with me."

"I do not wish to bribe. I love this opera house just as you do. I was insane to burn it down, and only wish to see it standing once more, in all it's glory."

"And what of your other issue?"

"I did meet with Christine and the Vicomte. It ended peacefully, and I wished them all the happiness. While I still care for her and always will, I look at her as no more than a friend and former pupil." Erik then knelt down on one knee, looking deep into Meg's eyes. "Meg, I was wrong to try to make you choose. I hope that you and your mother will do me the honor of forgiving me."

"I forgive you, Erik." Meg smiled.

"As do I..." Mme. Giry spoke evenly.

"Then, Meg, will you do me an extra honor and agree to be my bride?" Erik held up the diamond ring he had held onto for so long.

"Oh, Erik!" Tears flooded down Meg's face now, but they were tears of joy. "Yes...Yes, I'll marry you!"

"I...have signed those documents, Erik. The house is yours to do as you wish."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that. Meg, what do you say to opening up an art school? You can teach dancing, and I'll teach singing and painting. And perhaps we can persuade Pierre and Marie to stay on as teachers and dorm parents."

"Oh, Erik, that sounds wonderful!" Meg wrapped her arms around her fiance, and they shared a kiss that held all the passion of two soul mates finally uniting to face the future together.

Plans were soon underway for the art school. Erik planned for two dormitories to be built behind the main house, while the upstairs rooms were to be made into classrooms for group and private lessons. The first floor would be for offices, galleries, and performance halls. As he told his plans to Pierre and Marie, they met his enthusiasm.

"Just one thing, Erik, if you don't mind my asking." Pierre spoke up. "And I warn you, this pertains to a personal matter."

"What is it?"

"You taught Christine from behind a mask and behind walls. You won't be able to do that here. While Marie and I were warned not to dwell on your appearance, there will be others who will not have the same compassion."

"Yes, I know what you're saying. To be quite honest, I haven't been able to come up with a solution for that."

"Well, I have been doing some thinking of my own. A friend of mine has an uncle who's a doctor. He specializes in a procedure called 'plastic surgery'. He has quite a good reputation."

"You mean, he could...rebuild my face?" Erik stood up, a look of awe on his face. This would be more than a mask. It would be permanent. It would look real.

"Now, I don't know if he'll be able to do anything about your hair loss, mind you, but I don't see a problem in you wearing a wig during the day."

"A new face?" All his life, his face had been the cause of all his torment. So many times he had caught himself dreaming of being different...being normal. But now that he knew it was possible, he was scared. Scared that if he embraced the idea entirely, something would go wrong. "Meg, what do you think?" He turned to his bride-to-be, who had been listening with interest.

"Now, Erik, before I respond, please know that I love you, no matter how you look. But I suppose, for our future pupils and their parents' sake, whatever you need to do, I'll stand behind you."

"Please...can you send for this doctor?" Erik turned to Pierre, who nodded.

"Now, Monsieur, I hope you understand that I can only evaluate you here at home. The actual procedure and recovery must be done at my office, and full recovery can take several months." The elderly doctor cautioned.

"Meg, will you be willing to wait that long?"

"I love you, Erik. I will miss you dearly, but knowing we'll be together forever makes it easier." Meg placed a soft kiss on his right cheek.

While Erik was away, he arranged for builders and materials to be sent to the house by way of Philippe's boat. He left Pierre and Meg in full charge of the process, making sure they knew every detail. It pained him not to actually be there for the project, but he knew he could trust Meg completely.

Philippe's boat floated up to the dock. The golden leaves were covering the riverbank, and the new school stood in all its grandeur in the center of it all. Meg now ran out the front doors, seemingly having watched for them all night and all morning. Her fiance turned to her, left side first, and as his right side came into full view, Meg gasped. No longer were there wrinkles and bumps surrounding his eye. Now, the skin was all smooth, albeit with scars from the process which were on their way to being fully healed. "Hello, Meg. Do you like it?" Erik spoke now, uncertainty in his eyes.

"Oh, Erik! You were handsome before, but now? Oh Erik, it looks wonderful!" Meg covered his face with kisses as they made their way back to the school, Philippe following behind with Erik's luggage. And as Erik walked through the doors, he only partially took notice of the changes, but he could tell they had stuck to his plan down to the letter. But now, all he could see was the little dancer in front of him, looking at him with a love he had only dreamed about for years.

**A/N: You may see me refer to Erik's new home as a house rather than a mansion. There's a reason for that which you'll see after the editing process. Also, I was trying to think of how it would work with Erik being a teacher at an art school. Like Pierre, the only option I could think of was plastic surgery. I did my research and found that yes, it was around back then. Other than that, I am completely clueless about every other aspect of plastic surgery, so forgive me if I got anything wrong or left out crucial details. Please send your feedback, whether good or bad! Only one chapter left...I might have the epilogue included in that or in a chapter all its own...stay tuned!**


	10. A New Beginning

**A/N: Wow...is this story really almost complete? It has been a real joy to write this and learn from your feedback! **

As Erik stepped down into his former dwellings, his heart skipped a beat. Surprisingly, the angry mob had not completely turned the place upside-down, but as he was faced with all the remnants of his past life, he could not fight the few tears that appeared. He was truly grateful that Pierre and Philippe were with him now. He would need every bit of their help, in more ways than one.

"Shall we start with the instruments and sheet music?" Philippe interrupted his train of thought.

"What? Oh...yes, please..." Erik slowly approached all his paintings and drawings of Christine. No artist ever wants to see his work destroyed. Too much of himself had gone into each one. But to keep them was out of the question entirely. Finally he decided to bundle them up and give them to Christine. He only hoped that she would appreciate them. He found an empty leather folder and began placing the artwork into that.

"What next, Erik?" Pierre asked, and Erik turned around. While he had been lost in thought, the two men had brought all his smaller instruments and sheet music up to the carriage, and had just now returned.

"The masks and costumes can be left for the prop department. I'll let Antoinette know. The bed will have to stay, of course..." Erik's voice faded as he became overwhelmed with the thought of really leaving this place forever. All those years spent making these caverns truly his own, every detail a reflection of himself. Only it wasn't who he was anymore. He had to remind himself that he was about to be married to a woman who truly loved him, and he was no longer haunted by the face that had once caused his own mother to disown him.

"Erik? Do you need a moment?" Pierre spoke up.

"No, I...let's work on the organ, shall we?" Erik forced a smile onto his face, and they began working. Most of it was carved into the stone wall, so they would have to take only the main pieces that were key to the instrument itself. All other pieces would have to be built at the school, but Erik was eager to put his artistic talents to work again. He also made a mental note to carve a new bed, one he could share with his future wife. As the thought entered his mind, he regained his strength and his focus on the task at hand.

Finally, there was nothing else in the cavern that he wished to take with him. The carriage was now full, and the day was growing short. Erik took a deep breath and took one final look around. Yes, he was ready now. Ready to say good bye to his former self. Ready to embrace the future before him. And so, when Philippe gently reminded him of the time, Erik followed him out with no hesitation, and without looking back.

One month later, Meg arrived on Philippe's boat with an invitation in her hand. Erik was in the courtyard between the two dormitory houses, working on the bed. As soon as he heard Meg's voice calling his name, he immediately ran to meet her in front of the house. No way was she going to see this before it was complete. "Meg! What a surprise!" He embraced his fiance.

"Erik, you won't believe this. I hold in my hand an invitation for Christine and Raul's wedding." Her tone was a teasing one, and she had a mischievous grin on her face. She was not a good actress, Erik noted, but decided to play along.

"Oh do you, now? Well, I hope you have a wonderful time, and pass my regards onto the happy couple, won't you?"

"Erik, they've invited you! They want you to be there!" Meg laughed, pointing to Erik's name on the invitation.

"You're sure of this? They aren't just inviting me out of pity or politeness?"

"Mama had a long talk with them the other day. They realize you've changed, and all charges against you have been dropped!"

"Oh, Meg! I don't know what to say!"

"There's no need." Meg planted a kiss upon his lips.

Erik squeezed Meg's hand tighter as they entered the reception hall. So many familiar faces he had only seen from behind walls and masks filled the room. Yes, there were all three former managers, various performers, Carlotta and her little group, and, of course, the Vicomte and his new bride. Erik approached the managers first, refusing to let Meg's hand leave his own. "Monsieurs, it is a pleasure and an honor to finally meet you all." His tone took him by surprise.

"And you are...?" Monsieur Andre questioned.

"You once knew me by the name of 'Opera Ghost'. As you can see, gentlemen, I am no longer that man, and I regret deeply all that I put you through. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Erik Dupree." Antoinette had helped him track down his birth records; unfortunately his mother had passed away five years before.

"Ah, yes. Antoinette has told us that you've become the new patron. I believe I speak for us all when I say that we are looking forward to the first production after the rebuild." Monsieur Firmin spoke up.

"Yes, I look forward to that as well. Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, there are others I wish to speak to." Erik nodded, then turned towards Carlotta.

"Hello, Carlotta. Might I introduce you to my fiance, Erik Dupree?" Meg spoke first.

"Allo, Monsieur." Carlotta flashed one of her stage smiles at Erik, extending her hand. Erik took a subtle gulp. "I believe you have heard of me, yes?" _Carlotta, you are not making this easy,_ Erik thought.

"Indeed I have. I've been wanting to tell you something, but now is not the time. Perhaps later this evening?"

"Oh, but of course! I look forward to it, Monsieur!" As Erik turned from the singer, he felt Meg squeeze his hand.

"Oh, must you tell her, Erik? She'll cause such a scene!"

"I know, believe me I know. But if I'm to begin my life anew, I need to own up to everything I've done." Now, the couple stood in front of the newlyweds' table, and Erik allowed a soft chuckle to escape at the sight of Christine's face. She recognized him, all right, but was obviously amazed at the transformation.

"Congratulations, Christine, Raul. Thank you for inviting me here."

"Hello, Erik. While you're here, I wish to offer you a truce." Raul stood and extended his hand, which Erik shook in agreement.

"Vicomtess Christine, I want you to have this collection of my artwork." Erik handed over the wrapped parcel, and as Christine slowly revealed its contents, she gasped.

"They look wonderful, Monsieur Dupree. You have quite a talent." Raul remarked.

"Yes, thank you, Monsieur." Christine smiled up at him.

That night, when Erik had settled on a spare bed at the opera house, he couldn't help laughing at Carlotta's reaction to his confession. Meg's prediction of the scene she would cause came true, but in the end, after Erik had promised to allow Carlotta to have as equal a chance as any other soprano for the leads in future productions, she had finally forgiven him. He hated groveling, but without forgiveness, he would not have been able to feel true peace.

Erik and Meg's wedding took place the following spring inside the main building of the school. They invited everyone from the opera house to share in the excitement, and they were not disappointed by the crowd. Before they became officially husband and wife, Erik had requested that they sing a song together as part of their vows. The priest had agreed, and now, as the couple stood face to face, hand in hand, the song began:

_**(Erik:)**_

I won't be lonely

Not anymore

Not with the dancer here

Lost in my brokenness

And living in darkness

I was so lonely

All I had went into music

I thought I found someone

Gave my soul to someone

I was rejected

My heart lay at her feet, shattered

Then a girl

Waltzed into my life

She picked up the pieces

"You can be free

If you'll just dance with me!"

She looked right past my face

Into my deepest place

I won't be lonely

Not anymore

Not with the dancer here

I won't be lonely

Not anymore

Not with the dancer here.

_**(Meg)**_

I've learned to look at you

And all that you've been through

You were so lonely

Lonely in your darkest hours

How can I make you see

You mean so much to me

I was so lonely

That night when I danced on the stage

Suddenly

A violin's song

Seemed to say "I see you!

Please dance for me

Set your spirit free!"

And so now here we stand

Not strangers, more than friends

No longer lonely

Not anymore

Joined in love's dance are we

_**(Together)**_

We won't be lonely

Joined in our song

Joined in love's dance are we.

As the song ended, the priest quickly pronounced them husband and wife, and in one kiss, the couple fully embraced the sheer beauty of standing side by side, ready to face tomorrow.

And later that night, as Erik carried his bride into their private quarters on the first floor, he watched her reaction to the bed. Though the frame was wooden, it had gold plating covering it. Instead of a single solitary swan, he had carved two lovebirds perched at the foot. The red mattress was large and in the shape of a heart, and on the headboard, a pair of ballet slippers stood in between two music notes.

And now, as the couple kiss, we shall quietly close this door, leaving them to face a new life, joined in love's dance.

**A/N: The song "No Longer Lonely" is my own variation on the songs "No One Would Listen" and "Learn to be Lonely", both of which were written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and both of which always make me want to dissolve in a pool of my own tears. I decided to take that beautiful tune and put a positive message to it for once. As far as formalities are concerned in regards to Erik's presenting his gift to Christine directly, I took artistic liberties on that. Otherwise, I would have had to include a whole other scene in which Christine and Raul were opening all their gifts, they stumble upon the drawings, all of which are unsigned, and so a whole other layer of confusion and conflict would have emerged. And I didn't feel like bothering with that. :P **

**This story is not done! Stay tuned for the epilogue!**


	11. Epilogue

**A/N: This is it! Thanks again for all your wonderful feedback, it's really been an inspiration and an overall benefit to my writing skills. I'm so glad you liked this story enough to read this far! My next 'Phantom of the Opera' Erik/Meg story will be entitled "Never Alone", so stay tuned for that! And, again, as always, I own nothing!**

_** The Dupree Riverside School for the Arts**_ was officially opened during the fall of 1872. It became an unofficial partner to the Paris opera house, as about 90% of the art school students went on to the opera house, whether to perform or help with props and scenery.

_**Raul and Christine de Chagney**_ remained close friends to Erik and Meg. Raul and Erik became co-patrons of both the opera house and the art school, and Christine made frequent appearances to the classrooms as a guest teacher. The couple had two sons and three daughters, all of which were taught at the art school and eventually graduated to perform in the opera house. Their eldest son, Raul Jr., eventually took over as manager of the opera house.

_**Philippe and Jeanette**_ were hired to work at the art school. Philippe used his boat to transport students and materials, and Jeanette stayed on as head cook. The couple took over as dorm parents to the girls' dormitory.

_**Pierre and Marie**_ also remained at the art school. When he wasn't teaching violin and some singing, he could almost always be found in the courtyard, making violins for the students and even teaching his craft to them. Marie helped Jeanette in the kitchen and also taught sewing and embroidery. Pierre and Marie became dorm parents to the boys' dormitory.

_**Monsieurs Andre and Firmin **_were hired to take over administrative duties at the art school. With no threat-filled notes to cause them any stress, they did their job quite well.

_**Carlotta**_ remained lead soprano at the opera house for five more years, until her voice finally gave out (no fault of Erik's, I can assure you!). She never showed her face on stage again, although she did take over the costuming department of the opera house. With plenty of assistants, of course.

_**Erik and Meg Dupree**_ lived a long and happy life together at the school. Meg taught dancing and some singing, and Erik taught music, singing, and fine arts. They frequently treated themselves, their pupils, and the art school staff to nights at the opera, which provided both education and entertainment. Their two sons and two daughters, of course, went through the art school and ended up performing at the opera house after graduating. Their eldest daughter, Christine, soon fell in love with Raul de Chagney Jr., and, well, they always say history repeats itself... :)

**The End!**

**A/N: Feedback please! And now, on to the next story! :)**


End file.
